rewild, regreen
how cold?
how sweet?
no grass, just leaves
the moss
the seeds
low hands, loam wakes
we hold
we shape
i taste, i bite
the earth
the light
—
Rissa Offline spent her childhood lying on the floor with field identification guides in one hand and poetry books in the other. Her hometown lies cached between Illinois’ remaining prairie and Chicago’s beautiful architecture. A former biologist, she no longer uses her Cell and Molecular Biology degree from the University of Michigan. She translates shapes in her head to words. She dreams of moss. This is her first poetry submission since elementary school.
